She lies stoic and silent; motionless; lifeless, her beauty that of misery and destruction; the misery of imprisonment and the destruction of being. Her flesh cold and clammy brings joy to my elemental lust, and her voice, only a whisper, is my consciousness. Is it possible for you to love the dead as I do; to be ostracized by the false humanity of the one you call God and fall into the abysmal pit of despair I've claimed as my home only to seek your satisfaction in the unease of necrophilia? Ah, but it is wondrous to nurture such primal instincts no matter how demented the object of affection may be. I only know cold dark silence mind you, so warmth is absent from my list of needs.
Call me sick; call me a beast; call me insane… Insane? Is that the word you choose? Yes?
Let’s examine this, friend. How well do you know yourself? Is your soul a casket sealed and buried full of dreams and talents, or are you an open sore allowing your person, your very essence, to flow freely so that the world may infect you and prod at your gaping vulnerability with their inability to understand as they throw curses and slurs your way? Who then is insane here my friend, you or I?
I am a degenerate, a derelict, a vagabond, a social heretic if you please. I live within my mind, heart, and soul. It’s not pretty here friend, I promise. My mind, my life, is a cell, icy, damp, and dreary; no dusk, no dawn, no nesting canopy of stars, or brilliant illumination of moonlight, just pitch. Its concrete walls enclose me, frame my person, and embrace my madness. I can't break free. This is my world, my turmoil, or maybe it is my mercy and my sanctity. There's no escape or relief, just injustice and misery as my mind's corridor sadness falls in bringing me to the brink of insanity via claustrophobia. What once seemed like a labyrinth is now a coffin of anxiety and sanctuary of oppression, but it belongs to me and I to it. Don't cry for me; rejoice in my deliverance to acceptance and knowledge of misguided pain and unwinding misery. Anticipation of the unknown is the only real torture we face.
So, who then is truly insane friend? Oh, make no mistake; I am fully aware I use the words madness and insanity when describing my mental workings. Those are the only words I know to give you insight into my lovely despair. I, pray tell, am not as versed as you friend.
Allow me to show you how insane you truly are, because in reality there's nothing more strange than the sanity you claim. You live for nothing, no purpose, no direction, no desire, just following society like the sheep you are. One day you'll be lying on your deathbed with regret as your only friend. That's insane! Stand up! Stand out! Get out of line! Forget your house and your cars! Forget your fancy restaurants and your perfect body! See something real, something beautiful! Love, laugh, learn to feel, and find true passion! Create something that can't be taken away! Create a true and healthy spirit that feeds off of your being; live life instead of waiting for death…Choose. I beg of you, choose. Choose freedom over the prison of enterprise, worshipping possessions and your monetary value; worshipping your status and consumerism. Choose a path grown over by weeds of fear and conquer you so that you can know you. Lose the leech like mentality feeding off the rich hosts that pollute our airwaves with mind numbing reality television, trendy music, and infomercials. Think, read, travel, experience, and journey. Even within yourself, journey into your depths. You're not a puddle. You're an ocean of hopes and dreams. Maybe you just forgot. Find that wide eyed child you once were and embrace the possibility of what you hold dear and true inside your soul.
Once again I ask you, who’s insane, me? No! No, I am… I am… I’m a palace. Yes, I like that. I am a palace. The misery, destruction, conflict, and chaos that once clung to me has been smoothed by the stone of a true love. I stand tall in the face of adversity, my walls impenetrable from your assaults. I shine like the brightest of gems, polished clean of the soot of battle. I reflect the light granted to me from a blazing flame of passion. I am strong and versatile and I have found myself because of her.
But she’s dead you say? I continue to talk of my despair you say? Yes. Yes to both. I’m not oblivious to my plight. I will not soon forget my life. I just know that despite this seasonal darkness that shrouds my person there is the sensation that I have a greater fold to live within, love. I write to her and she adores me.
These clay walls that serve to keep me captive are etched with poems and memories of her. I dug the words in with the tips of my bloodied and calloused fingers, breaking nails down to the quick several times. Though her blood is cold, her heart silent, her once brilliant blue eyes now grey, and her plush zinfandel lips a cold blue, she was once alive and charming. She was ravishing and loved. She was the breath in my lungs and the beating of my heart.
I know, you think me mad once again, but let me show you. I will show you in detail how we loved and how we lived. In the darkness, the thickest pitch, I must scan the walls with my raw fingertips to read my musings like brail so you may know what love truly is, and here, in this very spot there should be… Ah, here it is, poetry.
From the mind to the lips to the sky
Painted into a corner the coroner seeks
The pointless stage of loneliness and chastity
My siren awaits searing breathless below the moon
When the night is the depth of peace and understanding turn away and save a tear for me
From the pain to the misery to the plight
Desperate for relief from the grief
The inspiring calamity and lone serenity
She rises like the sun chasing demons from their womb
When the night is the depth of peace and understanding she holds my ground shedding tears for me
I really love poetry. That was my first attraction to her. She was poetry in motion. So gorgeous…
I know she’s dead you imbecile, just listen!!!
Stunned by her beauty, her poetry, her limitless passion, and unassuming charm, I watch carefully studying her graceful movements, her soft expressionism. I see her pain reflected in the cryptic blue pools of her eyes, deep brilliant halls of life's plagues leading beyond the dungeons of her mind, through the corridors of her stricken heart, to the cathedral of her soul.
Its floors low concrete slabs of despair are cold and rigid to the touch, the walls delicate and smooth, covered by the marble decor of intensity and strength. Her windows are veiled by violent shades of agony. Draperies of doubt and remorse hang abundantly methodical from iron rods of menacing memories strategically placed as majestic decoration increasing the unique design of her fortress of macabre. The vaulted ceilings dressed in sparkling gems of amber discontent distort the mind and bend your view of the opening at its peak leading into the splendor of her sky. The bluish black canopy shines incandescent with silvers, purples, and pinks as the aura of her moon glows with a hue of compassion. Its light caresses the egregious nature of the abuses suffered easing her defenses. Her love litters the sky in forms of bright stars glimmering with hope ambiguously leading to her inner perception where my reality lingers desperately seeking the serenity of her touch.
My angel struggles against herself spreading her ashes like fodder through my sky. I seek serenity beyond her agony and find a heap of despair. I shed my tears for her pain to fertilize her heart. By her I fight unafraid of what I may find.
Then there were the times we made love. Such sweet beautiful love…
The lovers lied nude face to face in the expansive bed covered by the elegance of silk sheets. She closed her liquid blue eyes and sighed deeply as he stroked stray hair from her face causing her body to stiffen in anticipation as goose bumps danced along the surface of her milky skin. He watched evenly as her lips quivered in quiet desperation for the soft touch of his. Her back arched slowly as his hand drifted from her cheek down the back of her neck and then traveled the eloquent path of her spine finding a home in the small of her back. She leaned forward to claim the prize of his kiss and he slid in deliberately allowing his lips to meet the supple moist objects of his obsession. Her hand rose to trace the tight tone muscle of his arms to his shoulders and tangled erotically in his hair. The sensuality of the embrace lingered as their bodies reacted lustfully. Finally, lips still locked in passion; he rolled her to her back as he rested between her legs. She could feel the pulse of his lust on the inside of her thigh as her tore away from the kiss. He tasted the salty taste of perspiration as he kissed her neck lightly. He followed the curves of her body with his plush lips, working his way between her breasts, over her tight stomach, and stopping just below her navel as her body cringed and she grasped the railing of the headboard pleasurably. Her breathing slowed as he paused and looked up at his temptress' euphoric face as she longed for more. He watched as a bead of sweat formed at the base of her neck and slipped gently around her tender breasts and trapped itself in her navel. Their eyes met as she gazed down at him and her eyes said it all. He lowered his lips to the inside of her thigh and followed the firm Path of desire to her place of heaven.
Am I making this up? Why would you even think such a thing? Well yes there is in fact no bed or silk sheets but if I’d recorded our love making on a bed of jagged rocks she may have preferred we forgot it ever happened as if it was a spur decision made in a drunken stupor and then I’d be a mistake. No, there were no mistakes between her and I and everything I wrote served a purpose; no mistakes whatsoever. So listen now friend for I came to know her blooming flower and the nectar that sprang from its delight and I knew it well.
Moonlight embraces her silhouette, tracing its vivid existence in the pitch of night. She sighs blissfully, her back to me facing the scenic surrounding ocean. Waves crash with an echo, water rushes to her feet and the smell of salt dances in the thick air carried by the slow cool breeze.
Her hair flows gently over her shoulders catching the life of the breeze. I can't move. Frozen in the utter amazement of the moment I just watch.
She calls to me as she glances back over her shoulder. I falter in her gaze. My knees weak, my feet heavy, my mind glazed over with the image of her beauty and the sound of her soft sultry
voice.
Like a symphony her voice soothes me and leaves me breathless and lively at once. It pierces my ears above the background noise without need for invitation. I try to compute the words but the velvet tone rings above the words it carried. Again I try to move but my feet are lead, weighted into the sand. She reaches back to me extending her hand for me to join.
The glow of night reveals its first detail. The flesh of her arm shimmers in its hue. It's creamy shade almost luminous beneath the blackened sky. Her hand petite and inviting, summons me to her.
I struggle momentarily with the weight of my legs as I force myself nearer. My motor skills are rusty from the stagnation they endured but they soon find rhythm as one step becomes two, two becomes three, and three puts me within reach. My hand rises to hers instinctively, in need of its union. So soft as she slips her fingers through mine.
Mesmerized again at her stark beauty I stumble briefly as the stars crash into her eyes sparking the brilliant sapphire gems to life, a universe unto themselves. I imagine the warm days and cool nights of their world, the immensely calming feeling of being care free in their chambers; millions of silvery specs lighting the skies in their midst; the whisper of the wind in my mind, its caress on my skin, and her name on my lips.
Clouds shift revealing still more. As if I wasn't overwhelmed enough, there was more, oh so much more!
Her complexion, light and silky, brushed against the grayish moonlight fervently, teasing the night with the possibility of a clear view but never submitting to its dominance. Her lips glistened pinkish red, ripe, full, and smooth. They shined like crimson wine at moments then turned to a rosy blush the next. Parting slightly they released the voice of satin that carried the powers to thrill me to my core. A smile followed.
That smile, I near died at the sight of that smile. It was heart stopping to say the least, vibrant and cunning, seductive and shy, so tempting; so inviting. No words. Dreams revolve around a smile with such expression and love, such care and devotion; a smile that pulls you to tears of pleasure; a smile you'd travel to the ends of the earth to see and die happy. It stains your memory with its demeanor and its warmth never leaves you.
I stood like stone staring, at a loss for words. What do you say to a sight so gorgeous; so breathe taking? What could I possibly say to measure up?
Her hand tugged me to her gently as her smile grew rooting itself in my mind. Breaking the haze of pain that surrounded me, I gave in. I drew up my leaden feet as best I could and drug them through the sandy beach like concrete pillars till I was next to her, next to my love.
She turned into me, wrapping her arms around me, her head to my chest. I held her tight afraid if I let go she would vanish like a phantom into the dark of night becoming a star in my sky that shone with her memory. No, I couldn't chance it, I held her tight.
Her head drew back as her star filled eyes looked up at me in their stark magnificence. I smiled an emotion filled smile. Tears in my eyes, my heart thumping violently in my chest, knot in my stomach, and a lump in my throat. The tears burned wickedly behind my eyes and in my face. They wanted release, to be able to slide down my cheeks to her. Oh the sense of wonder I felt.
I gazed down at her my eyes misty and hot. A tear pried loose falling desperately to her supple lips. She raised a hand to my face gently stroking it. Now a flood of blissful tears rained to her. I was there. We were together.
The emotion sprang up in me so wildly no amount of control was left. I pulled her closer lifting a hand to her warm face brushing the hair away. The breeze stopped, the ocean silenced, and the clouds parted freeing the moon's white light to shine down on us. Slowly I leaned to her, our eyes intimately in contact until the eternal journey led my lips to hers. Our first kiss; long and lingering our lips in contact reacting erotically to the others.
The passion of months apart and years of misery and uncertainty as the soft luscious warmth of our kiss traveled through the entirety of our bodies, crawling deep beneath the surface to the deepest pits of our beings to treasures undiscovered; our tongues sliding across each other constricting around each other acting as one; our embrace feeding off each other silencing the outside world, stopping time.
We were the only two people that existed.
Do you know love like that? Can you comprehend what it is you egotistical self-centered twit? You probably think I should thank God. Let me tell you something, God is merciless. I’ve met God. Glory be; to the almighty giver and taker of life, and the deliverer of pain. God is quite a sight; a sight of anguish and destroyer of decency. Of course God gave her to me.
I stood there and watched the cold gray open up over head bathing me in the most intolerably brilliant wash of light. God’s silhouette stood at the light’s threshold and dropped corpse from heaven’s gate after so many prayers begging for relief from my loneliness; after so many pleas for a friend and companion, this sadistic twisted deity tossed me a doll; a doll made of flesh and blood, but cold and lifeless; a doll that’s memories weren’t lived, but imagined, fantasized; created in lonesome recesses of my mind.
So, yes, you’re right, she is dead, and she’s always been dead, alive only to me, only in my mind. Only I have spent hours sitting through her tears. Only I have basked in the beauty of her smile. Only I have seen the beauty of her bright sapphire eyes sparkle with love despite their infectious dead-end stare. Maybe I should thank God.
That’s what you want isn’t it? Do you want a thank you friend? You didn’t think I knew? Yes, I know. I know you’re the alpha and omega of my life. I know you’re the giver and taker of my being. I’m not a fool any more than I am insane.
You’ve heard it all. I’ve been candid and I’ve shown you how real our love is, and now you’re jealous in all your perfection and splendor. I revel in that. I love knowing I’ve made my creator squirm beneath the skin. I’ve lived for this moment.
Now, who’s truly insane? Me? I don’t think so. You’ve failed in creating your obedient people of worship and now it’s time to sort things out. Don’t think for a second I believe I’m the only occupant of your mind. I hear them in their cells, their voices echoing throughout the corridors of thought. I hear their cries. I hear their pleas. Do you show yourself to them? No, I didn’t think so. This is a special visit, isn’t it? You’ve only allowed yourself into my cavern because I became content, no, happy within these walls, and I learned love is the peace and joy that comes with putting someone else’s needs before my own. Not a problem if that someone else happened to be you, but show someone else some admiration and… You just couldn’t let that happen, could you? You’ve come with a purpose. You’ve let me pour my soul out to you. I’m vulnerable, so on with it.
Ha! That look in your eye is priceless. Why are you scared? Is it because I was your greatest creation, or is it because I found something you don’t want to lose? Am I to live in pain, alone once again?
No! I won’t! You’ve come this far, exposing the truth to me, and now that you’ve sunk the blade to the hilt there’s fear in your eyes, but I still sense pleasure seeping through your veins just as sure as the blood seeps from my sternum. Twist the handle and let me die.